


Foreign Affairs

by karuvapatta



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Intersex Loki, Jotunn | Frost Giant, Jötunheimr | Jotunheim, Jötunn Loki, M/M, Politics, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-09 05:45:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3238526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karuvapatta/pseuds/karuvapatta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thor's first diplomatic mission to Jotunheim ends up being deadly dull. And while the strange Jotun Prince might not be the best company, he at least isn't boring. (AKA the story in which Loki introduces some excitement to Thor's life, and more than one person ends up regretting it.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Foreign Affairs

**Author's Note:**

> Oh gods, I am so sorry about the title. And this fic in general. And everything, really.

It turned out Loki wasn't the youngest of the sons of Laufey. He was, however, the smallest. Many things about Loki set him apart from the other Frost Giants, Thor was coming to learn. His stature, for one thing, but also the way he dressed, favouring a lot more clothes and armour than his brethren. Plus the fact that he willingly sought out Thor's company.

"Ah, yes," Loki was saying. "A very famous landmark, this one."

Thor shot him a look. "You don't actually know what it is, do you?"

Loki spread his hands apart and shook his head. "Not really. This region is full of old ruins. It's hard to keep track of them all."

Hanging around with Loki was infinitely better than staying holed up in the grim palace of King Laufey. Jotunheim was still dark and freezing cold but there was quite a bit to explore, and Loki was more than eager to show him around.

Their mounts carried them to the gates of a ruined temple, half-buried under the cover of snow. It was hard to figure out which sharp juts of deep-blue ice were natural and which were part of the bizarre architecture. The most unsettling thing was how still and quiet it was: this land of endless winter.

Far above them was the sky, always dark, peppered with tiny glittering stars that looked frozen themselves. Occasionally there were other celestial bodies, or the Aurora, introducing some colour to this land. Loki offered to explain the movements of the skies but Thor cared little for astronomy.

They set out on foot into the bowels of the building. There was some beauty to it, Thor supposed. They found some path that led down, to a vast and empty hall. Without the sky there was no light to see by, and Thor's steps faltered.

"Wait here," Loki said, his voice the only sound in the stillness of the air. He moved, murmured something – and the very _walls_ began to gleam, lined with the undercurrent of bright blue lines. They formed words and pictures, oftentimes crude and simple.

Thor would never say this aloud, but there was something about the Jotnar and their art – about the way they worked with the landscape of this unhospitable land – that had nothing on the splendour of Asgard but was, in its own way, admirable.

"What is that?" Thor asked, pointing towards a hunting scene. Some Frost Giants were chasing a beast, not much larger than an adult Jotun, but sporting some impressive claws and teeth. The artist also added a peculiar glitter to its pelt.

Loki said something intelligible.

"What?" Thor said. "I didn't understand. The Allspeech—"

"My forefathers," Loki said haughtily, "spoke this tongue before your precious Allspeech was invented, Odinson."

The word turned over in Thor's head, clicking with some other familiar phrases. Its pronunciation was changed, slightly different to Loki's normal manner of speaking, which tended to be smooth and polished. Nevertheless—

"Snow Wolf?" Thor hazarded.

Loki shrugged. "I never claimed what they had to say was particularly imaginative, did I?"

"Can you hunt them?" Thor said, trying not to sound too eager. He longed to give his limbs a proper stretch, even if it meant traversing the icy planes of Jotunheim in search of some strange beasts. Or maybe especially then.

"Of course you can," Loki said. "If you dare."

And he gave Thor a sly look. His eyes gleamed bright red when the light struck them.

"I fear no creature," Thor said. "With Mjolnir by my side, what could stand in my way?" He laid his hand upon the hammer's head. It hummed as if it, too, longed to call out for the storm.

"Yes, about that," Loki said, clearing his throat. "Their fur is of great value. You are meant to hunt them without destroying it. Otherwise, where would be the fun?"

"You do not scare me," Thor said. "I would wrestle it down with my bare hands, if—"

"If what?"

The question was quick, and the interest in Loki's voice was apparent. His gaze fixed on Thor's, ink-black hair obscuring part of his face when he tilted his head to the side, like a curious bird.

Thor exhaled. The Jotun was pretty, he had to admit. Not the kind of beauty Thor normally chased, but there was something beneath his smooth blue skin and polished exterior. Something savage and dangerous. Very much like Jotunheim itself: still and pretty beneath the twinkling lights of the Aurora, but deadly and treacherous for the careless wanderer.

\--Damn him, Thor had no head for poetry. But Loki smiled at him, with hitherto unseen softness. His movements were slow and careful and _elegant_ , in some odd way. He had long, slender fingers, reaching out, now, to curl around the edge of Thor's bright red cloak.

"Will you kill it for me?" Loki murmured, dropping his gaze.

It had to be an act – the sudden shyness, the hesitation in his words, and the way he bit his lip. Still Thor found himself enchanted. Loki's fingers toyed with the fabric, blue-against-red. There was an odd expression on his face, a strange sort of longing – and then he snatched his hand away, as if afraid of overstepping his place.

"No matter," he said, his tone more level, his eyes still looking anywhere but at Thor. "I am sure you have better things to do with your time."

Was he—but no. He looked too vulnerable, too _sincere_ to be anything but.

"I do not," Thor said, because in truth he was bored out of his mind. But the world of convoluted diplomacy, his Father's disapproving gaze, Mother's gentle hints that he should pay more attention to what was being said – it seemed so far away now.

He wanted Loki to look at him the way he did before – bold and challenging. Loki didn't seem the cowering kind, why was he so unsure all of the sudden?

Thor placed his fingers under Loki's chin and tilted his head. This was a great liberty to take but he _wanted_ to see Loki's eyes, bright red, strange and alien and oddly beautiful.

Loki's skin was cool to the touch, but not freezing cold. He smiled faintly at Thor, subdued resignation clear in every line of his face. He made no motion, either to leave or to come closer.

And so Thor was the one to lean forward, seeking permission or reassurance in Loki's eyes that this was something they both wanted. Their breaths met in the small space between their lips, leaving white puffs in the cold air.

Loki said nothing. But when Thor forced himself to remain still, Loki's resolve seemed to crumble. His mouth sought Thor's, and Thor was more than happy to oblige.

The Jotun's lips were cold, and Thor couldn't help the shiver that ran through his body. But then Loki deepened the kiss, and his mouth was warmer, so warm, opening hungrily for Thor's tongue. Thor buried his hands in Loki's hair, cradling him closer, and kissed him more passionately than he expected.

This was something he could do for hours. Loki breathed heavily between their kisses, pressing his forehead to Thor's. Thor searched for his lips like a man starving, hungry for their softness, the unexpected warmth of Loki's tongue, the way he opened up so willingly—

He slid his hand lower, thumb brushing Loki's throat and then the collar of his garment. He longed to see more of him, all that strange blue skin exposed—he thought Loki might like that too, if the way he clung to Thor and shivered in his arms was any indication.

Alas, no. Loki was pulling away, albeit reluctantly.

"I am to wed Thrym," he said, still breathless, his cheeks taking on a slightly purple hue. He gave Thor an apologetic smile. "I cannot—"

Thor's arms tightened around him, not liking the sound of that. Loki was betrothed. It was dishonourable to desire him, yes. But now that it was awoken, the feeling was like fire in Thor's veins, and he burned with the need to have Loki, in any way he would permit—

"Do you _want_ to wed Thrym?" he asked.

"No," Loki said. "But I cannot go against my father's wishes."

His mind rebelled when he tried to imagine Loki in the arms of the hulking warlord.

"Why does your father want you to marry him?" Thor asked. It was odd to think of Loki as a maiden to be given away in marriage – he looked very much like a young man, more so than the other Jotnar Thor had encountered.

"To get me out of the way," Loki said. He caught a strand of Thor's hair and rolled it between his fingers, clearly fascinated. Hair seemed to be something of an exception among the Jotnar, and blond hair was something Loki had probably never seen before. Thor couldn't fault him for his curiosity. "Between Helblindi and Byleistr he has enough to worry about. If either of them gathers enough allies, they can simply overthrow our father and seize the throne. I suppose it's easier to watch out for two potential traitors than three."

"And you?" Thor said, struggling to remain interested. Loki's fingers toying with his hair was entirely too distracting.

"I care not for the throne," Loki said. "Although I suppose that this is what Thrym expects of me. Apparently becoming the King's consort is worth marrying a runt."

Thor caressed Loki's cheek. His skin was smooth and cold and dry, like marble, but there was a softness to it that he hadn't expected. And the ridges that appeared to be on every Jotun were stranger still, forming circles and lines on Loki's face that ought to be unflattering but somehow were. They were regular, symmetrical, and Thor wondered if there was some meaning behind the patterns. And if they ran the whole length of Loki's body.

Loki's smile turned wistful under Thor's scrutiny. He pressed another kiss to Thor's lips and drew away.

"We had better go back," he said.

Thor's protests were unceremoniously silenced by more kisses, more forceful this time. But in the end Loki was right, he was sensible, and Thor—Thor could do sensible. Of course he could.

***

Thor began to doubt his sense two days later, when he set out for the hunt with the Warriors Three and Lady Sif.

He had asked around and was directed to the mountainous part of the Realm where the Snow Wolves have made their home.

"Is it really here?" Fandral said dubiously, eyeing the perfectly still landscape. They were knee-deep in snow. More of it kept falling from the sky. Thor had to admit the visibility was very poor.

"It ought to be."

"Maybe the Frost Giants lied to you," Volstagg said. "They are well-known for that."

Thor laughed. "Would you rather go back and pretend to be nice to them?"

He knew the forced courtesy was getting beneath everyone's skin. The enmity between the Aesir and the Jotnar went back a long way.

But perhaps Loki had lied to him after all. Perhaps—

At which point they were jumped by a pack of Snow Wolves.

Thor could see where they got their name from – their fur was perfectly white and refracted the light in most peculiar ways, making them almost invisible against the snowy ground. But they also had large maws full of very sharp teeth and hooked, mean looking claws. The one nearest to Thor launched itself in the air with breath-taking speed, falling towards him like a razor sharp promise of pretty white death.

Thor set down Mjolnir. And smiled.

***

Thor waited until their next little excursion. He told everyone they hadn't managed to track the Wolves down, and asked for his friends' silence. They complied, even if they were burning with curiosity. Thor, however, had something very different on his mind.

Yet again they found themselves in some desolate ruins – an ancient temple, most likely. Loki pointed upwards, marking shapes of columns and the ceiling they once supported. Now there was nothing but the sky above them.

There was a smaller chamber off to the side, mostly intact. Thor watched as Loki pressed his palms flat to the wall and murmured some soft words. The lights awoke deep within the ice, casting them in faint, shimmering blue.

While Loki was busy Thor reached out into his packs, and drew out the fur. When Loki turned towards him, Thor handed it over.

"For you," he said, watching the surprise in Loki's eyes.

It didn't last long. Soon Loki was reaching out, caressing it with wide-eyed, joyous expression. He seemed entirely taken with the gift, and the way it glittered in the faintest light. He threw it down on the icy floor in the middle of the chamber.

Then Loki turned around to smile at him, and Thor's stomach dropped.

"Are you pleased?" he asked, mouth dry.

"I am," Loki told him, _happy_ , for the first time that Thor could see.

It was too much. Thor averted his eyes, trying to focus. This chamber also had the strange light-markings on the wall – subtler, and there were less of them. Nevertheless if he focused he could tell apart some words and figures and—

He heard a distinct sound – clasps being unbuckled, and a rustle of fabric. It felt like something lodged itself in his throat when he tried to swallow.

"Well?" Loki said. Thor was forced to look at him—he couldn't. No. He knew himself, knew he wouldn't be able to _stop_ —

The outer part of Loki's armour, his coat – it all lay forgotten on the floor. He wore nothing but a pair of black trousers, slung low over his hips, and—he was beautiful. His skin was blue and patterned with lines, smooth and hairless, outlining the shape of every muscle and protruding bone. And, Norns, he was lean and slender but _strong_ , and if Thor fooled himself into thinking that it would be dangerous, that he could break the Jotun by touching him – the illusion was wearing off.

Loki tried to gauge his reaction, standing awkwardly next to the white fur, biting his lip.

"Come and collect your price," he said quietly. "If you are willing."

No, Thor told himself. He knew it was wrong. He knew—oh, but he had known all along what he hoped for when he brought the gift for Loki. He knew what was going to happen. What _should not_ happen, because Loki was betrothed, Loki already belonged to someone. And that someone wasn't Thor.

He barely registered the falter in Loki's expression, the twinge of fear, before he was moving to gather the Jotun in his arms.

Kissing him was electrifying. Exactly like that the dreams which kept Thor awake during the hunting trip, except _more_ – more everything. Loki's body was a shock of cold but Thor didn't _care_ , because his mouth was wonderfully warm, and his palm fisted in Thor's hair while he scrambled one-handed at Thor's cape and armour.

"Please," he murmured, and Thor was wild with it, pushing the Jotun down onto the fur. He stripped himself quickly and carelessly, heedless of the cold, because Loki watched his every movement with naked hunger.

Loki reached out for him, open and willing. The fur beneath him glimmered, and it was thick and soft, so that Thor's entire palm could sink down. He was grateful for the barrier between his own naked body and the icy floor, even if he felt like his flesh was burning, and that he could never be cold again.

And, oh. The Jotun was exquisite, from the blissful expression to the smooth expanse of skin. He breathed harshly when Thor's fingers caressed his chest and stomach, tightening his hold on Thor's shoulders. His nails dug into Thor's skin, skirting the fine edge between pain and pleasure, as he urged him on.

Thor slid his hands lower. The patterns _did_ cover Loki's entire body, and the double lines on both sides of his navel travelled further, disappearing beneath the waistband of Loki's trousers. He followed them with questing fingers, and wasn't prepared for Loki's violent shiver, or for the breathless little moan that followed.

Already Loki looked half-dazed, nodding his permission at Thor, red eyes glinting. The damned trousers came off easily—and Thor was startled, momentarily, by the sight of Loki's sex. There was a man's cock, yes, almost fully hard, with purplish head peeking from the slit in the blue foreskin. The darker lines followed its sides almost to the tip. But beneath _that_ , Loki's body was split in two, like a woman's.

"Having second thoughts, Odinson?" Loki murmured in his ear. "Am I too strange for your delicate Asgardian sensibilities?"

"You are very strange," Thor told him, pinning Loki down. Loki grinned, his teeth small and sharp and very white, eyes red like a demon – alien. Utterly alien. And yet Thor could not bring himself to care.

He reached down between Loki's legs and gave an experimental tug to his cock. Its weight was familiar enough, although Thor had never truly made a habit of engaging with other men. The cool texture of it was unusual though, and oddly exhilarating.

Their position allowed Thor to observe Loki's face. Loki licked his lips and exhaled, humming appreciatively at Thor's ministrations.

Thor moved his hand lower. He wondered what it felt like: his own warm hand against Loki's flesh. It ought to be uncomfortable but instead it made every touch feel that much more distinct and intense.

The folds parted easily beneath his touch. They were like the rest of Loki's body, cool and dry and perfectly smooth. Thor rubbed them with his fingers and watched as Loki's mouth parted slightly, forming a shape that might have been the beginning of Thor's name.

Loki's hips twitched, rising slightly off the fur. There was a tremor in his thighs and they spread for Thor's hands, inviting him deeper. And— _oh._ Thor found the opening and pushed in. It was warmer, like Loki's mouth, but not warm enough. He resumed what he was doing, rubbing between Loki's legs, seeking any points that would make him tremble and moan. Loki's hand covered his, directing him, urging him to go deeper and _faster_.

He was getting slicker now, the moisture building up beneath Thor's fingers. It made the movement easier and so much better, and Loki's palm trembled uselessly, digging into Thor's skin, pulling him down.

Thor's cock was painfully hard for all the lack of attention it received. It took great willpower to keep himself from thrusting into Loki right _now_ ; Thor felt like he deserved an award or two, kissing Loki, open-mouthed and uncoordinated, while his fingers found the right place and sank in.

Loki moaned, hips jerking up, his cock rubbing against Thor's own. Inside he was all wet, tight heat, and Thor trembled, nearly losing himself completely.

"Is that all you've got?" Loki asked breathlessly. "The Mighty Thor—"

Thor growled. He bit Loki's lower lip and swallowed his laughter, pinning him down to the soft fur. Loki's face was flushed and his eyes held a wordless challenge.

He made the most amazing sounds while Thor worked him open. His hips kept hitching up, his hand carelessly pumping his own cock before he reached out for Thor's.

At that, at the press of cool fingers to his overheated flesh—it was almost too much. Thor choked back a moan of his own, thrusting into Loki's hold. Loki's mouth ghosted over his cheek.

"I want you inside me," he said, lips and tongue brushing Thor's ear. Thor trembled.

He withdrew his fingers from Loki's cunt. They both hissed at the loss of contact, Loki falling back to rest on his elbows, while Thor lined the head of his cock with the opening and pushed in, hips snapping forward, blinded with desire.

Loki threw back his head, panting, the long line of his throat exposed. Thor kissed him, and pushed _deeper_ , his cock burying into warm flesh, so slick and wet it was almost obscene. His self-control snapped almost instantly and he started thrusting mindlessly, conscious only of the tightness around his cock, everything else forgotten—

Somewhere beneath him Loki was arching up, fingers digging into Thor's skin, so hard they almost drew blood. Loki's mouth opened for a wordless cry, his breathing laboured and uneven. All his muscles tensed, from his thrown-back head to the curl of his toes.

Thor felt Loki's orgasm in the spasms around his own cock, and the long beads of pearly white semen spurting from the tip of Loki's. Loki lay afterwards, boneless and catching his breath, staring up at the ceiling before his attention was brought back to Thor.

There seemed to be some new-found energy in Loki. He curled his legs around Thor's waist and flashed him a mischievous smile. Then he rose in one fluid motion and pushed Thor back, straddling his lap. Thor hastily supported himself with one hand, the other curled around Loki's torso.

"That was quite pleasant," Loki said, laughter lacing every syllable. He looked utterly debauched, his sleek black hair in complete disarray.

Thor scowled at him. "I'm glad you found me satisfactory."

"Mhm," Loki said. "Most satisfactory."

He leaned down to give Thor a filthy open-mouthed kiss. Thor's cock was still buried deep inside Loki's cunt, aching to _move,_ but there wasn't much Thor could do in this position; Loki was surprisingly heavy.

But then Loki hitched his hips, and Thor forgot how to breathe.

Loki seemed utterly delighted at this turn of events. He moved his hips in fluid, sinuous motions, and Thor panted uselessly beneath him. It lacked the punch of his previous thrusting but was good, so good, stirring every nerve ending with waves upon waves of relentless pleasure.

All the while Loki watched him curiously, or nibbled at Thor's lower lip, or ran his cold, cold fingers over Thor feverish body. Thor trembled, aching all over, longing for release and yet wishing the moment would never end.

He cupped the back of Loki's neck, his hand still slick. Loki seemed strangely unbothered by the fact; more than that, he grabbed Thor's hand and brought it to his lips, opening his mouth to curl his tongue around Thor's fingers, licking them clean.

Thor moaned. Never once did Loki break eye-contact, not even when he was fellating Thor's fingers with obvious pleasure. His hips moved faster now, finding a rhythm that set Thor's mind ablaze.

He was coming, thrusting up, Loki's cunt yet again clenching around his cock. Somewhere, Loki was moaning something – maybe it was Thor's name, maybe not. Thor didn't care, his orgasm wringing every bit of conscious thought out of his head.

They found each other afterwards, panting in the wake of their pleasure. Loki was grinning at him. Thor thought about—about what they would face when they got back. About Loki's approaching marriage.

Then Loki kissed him again, slow and languid; and it didn't matter. Thor was content with their little stolen moment of uncomplicated joy.

***

The last feast of their visit was a sight to behold. Even Volstagg had to admit he was impressed with the choice of food and drink, even if the rest of them dared not touch all of it.

Thor wasn't sure what it was the Frost Giants were celebrating – the Asgardians' departure, most likely – but threw himself into it wholeheartedly. Wine and mead helped him chase away the lingering memories of his time with Loki, and the guilt that welled within every time he looked in the direction of Thrym or Jotunheim's royal family.

Loki was nowhere to be seen.

"It's unlike you to be this quiet," Sif said, raising her eyebrows at him. Thor shrugged, unable to think of a convincing excuse.

The relief among the Asgardians was palpable. They never quite managed to get over their dislike of the Jotnar. Thor knew this perfectly well; he could hear the way his friends and subjects spoke of their hosts. Their ways were strange and mysterious, their realm cold and dark and unwelcoming. Like the rest of their people, Thor longed for the golden halls of Asgard, for the light and warmth of his home.

And yet—and yet.

"Lady Sif is right," his mother said. She was seated between the Allfather and Thor himself. At Odin's left was King Laufey, flanked by his sons. The seating arrangement was unusual – ordinarily an effort would be made to mix the guests, allowing them opportunity to mingle. But neither the Aesir nor the Jotnar made any effort to be more friendly than courtesy dictated. "You seem distracted."

The queen kept her demure, polite smile but Thor was yet again reminded that very little escaped her gaze. He had managed to avoid her over the past two days. Because what if she asked about the hunting trip that took the better part of Thor's stay in Jotunheim?

His eyes drifted to Thrym. Was it just him, or did Thrym seem bigger and uglier than his brethren? And he was loud and boisterous, bragging of his prowess in the battlefield, or his fortune, or a thousand others inconsequential things. Lies, all of them – men who spoke in grand words could rarely back them with grand deeds.

Thor's hand itched to grab Mjolnir and demand that Thrym proves his claims in the arena. But he had no reason to challenge him without exposing Loki.

"I miss Asgard," Thor told his mother. She wasn't likely to believe him—and didn't.

"But you always took great joy in travelling," she said ponderously. Thor squirmed in his seat.

He was saved by the arrival of Loki, except—except he wasn't.

Thor's eyes widened. Loki marched down the length of the feasting hall with his head held regally high. Like all the other Jotnar he wore ceremonial armour – and he was wrapped in furs, unmistakable white furs, gleaming with many colours when the light struck it.

The crowd grew silent while Loki passed. Thor told himself that surely—surely there was another reason for that. The purpose of his hunting trip was widely known, yes, but that didn't mean—

King Laufey turned to give Thor a sharp look. As did Thrym. And Loki's brothers.

"Greetings, Your Majesties," Loki said, sketching an exaggerated bow. His voice was loud enough to carry to every corner of the room. "I do so apologize for my tardiness."

"Loki," Laufey said, with tightly controlled fury. "What is the meaning of this display?"

"Why, Father," Loki said, with manic glee. "I am merely celebrating my wedding vows!"

"What vows?" Thrym said, his hand curling around an axe.

Thor prayed silently that Loki would _shut up_ , that he wouldn't do this—whatever madness this was—

"The vows that I took," Loki said, smiling sweetly at Thrym, "When I was marrying Prince Thor Odinson."

All eyes turned to look at Thor – including, most chillingly, Odin and Laufey's.

"I took no vow," Thor said, hopelessly confused. "I have no idea what he's talking about—we have not been wedded—"

"But you brought him the pelt of a snjárulfr," Helblindi said in a gravelly voice. "It is our ancient wedding ceremony."

Thor was struck speechless. Loki still wore a blissfully innocent expression, and then he bloody _twirled_ , his fur coat glittering for all to see.

"Excuse me," Thor said, pushing back his seat and slamming his fists on the table. "I have murder to commit."

"No, you do not," Frigga said sharply.

Commotion rose around the table. Somewhere, people were shouting. Thor was aware of it, on some level, but his blood boiled with the need to punch that damned smug smile off Loki's face—

Laufey ordered everyone out but it seemed even the king's wrath would not deter the assembled crowd from enjoying this particular entertainment. In the end Laufey motioned at his guards and they dragged Loki out to a nearby chamber. Both kings followed, as did Frigga with a tight grip around Thor's elbow. Thrym did nothing to conceal his outrage and marched into the chamber with an axe held high and two guards in tow. Loki's brothers shut the door firmly before any onlookers.

"What twisted game are you playing, Laufey?" Thrym bellowed. "I will not let this insult stand—"

"We are all eagerly awaiting an explanation," Odin said calmly, but Thor knew his father well: he was merely still undecided as to where to direct his fury.

"It is not I who plays this game, but my son," Laufey said. "His reputation for lies is well-earned. This is not the first time he had brought shame upon this house."

Loki's mask started showing cracks. His arms were twisted painfully behind his back, in the iron grip of the two much bigger Jotnar.

"No, of course not," he said, voice dripping venom. "That would have been my birth, wouldn't it, Father?"

"Be silent, runt," Laufey growled.

The look of pure, naked hatred on Loki's face was frightening to behold.

"Or what?" he hissed. "Is it not in the spirit of the occasion? You began it, Father. _You_ invited Jotunheim's greatest enemy to dine at our table, _you_ decided to prostrate yourself before Odin Allfather, _you_ are willingly bowing to the thieves that have robbed us of our greatest treasure—"

"Be silent!" Laufey roared.

Thor watched, horrified, but Loki could talk no more – one of the guards pressed the shaft of his glaive to Loki's throat, so hard that the Jotun choked and struggled to breathe.

"Forgive us this disgusting display, Allfather," Laufey said, the forced politeness clearly grating upon his tongue. "The boy is a trickster and a liar. His words hold no value in this court."

Odin held Laufey's gaze, never once loosening his grip on Gungnir. The rest of the chamber fell silent, awaiting the decision of the two kings.

No, Thor thought. Only one king. Loki—he didn't think Loki was lying. He didn't think anyone present doubted the truth of Loki's words, even if they were spoken in anger. The Casket of Ancient Winters still lay in Asgard's treasury. Without it, without the source of their power, Frost Giants were no enemy to Asgard.

Odin's one-eyed gaze fixated on Thor.

"Did you truly not know what you were doing?" he asked.

"No, Father," Thor said.

"You did not know Prince Loki was betrothed to another?" Odin said.

Thor opened his mouth and shut it again.

"I did know, yes," he said eventually. "But it was not my intention to _marry_ him."

His parents' faces were a picture he would prefer not to have to see again, ever.

Odin turned away, back to Laufey, mouth set in a very thin line. "My son will be punished for his—transgression. And then I hope we can put this matter behind us."

"Oh, no," Thrym growled. "He took something of mine. He will be made to pay—I would take no less than his precious hammer."

Thor barked a laugh. "Mjolnir can be lifted only by the worthy," he said, momentarily amused by the absurdity of the idea. "You would not be able to budge it even an inch, Jotun."

"Silence," Odin said. Frigga's hands tightened painfully around Thor's elbow.

"Silence, indeed," Laufey said. "Thrym, the greatest insult offered against you was by Loki himself. Him, you may punish as you will. Our guests will leave in peace."

Thrym looked like he was about to argue but then thought better of it. "Very well," he said.

And just as quickly, Thor's amusement was a thing of the past. He saw Loki flinch, saw him raise his eyes, first to Laufey and then to Thrym. The change in his expression was barely noticeable – perhaps Thor only caught it because he knew first-hand how expressive Loki could be.

Justice was swift in Jotunheim's court, it seemed. The guards let go of Loki. No word passed in the tight, uncomfortable silence, and yet Loki seemed to know well enough what was expected of him. He tossed away the white fur and began to undress his ceremonial armour until he stood shirtless. Throughout it all he kept his head held high but could not conceal the tremor in his fingers.

Thor barely registered what was about to happen, trying uselessly to catch Loki's gaze. But no, Loki wasn't looking at him, Loki was glaring hatefully at Laufey. Then one of the guards handed Thrym a whip coil and it all became perfectly clear.

"What?" Thor shouted. "Father, you cannot let them do that, that's barbaric!"

"You will be quiet," Odin told him sternly.

"This isn't Asgard, Odinson," Helblindi added somewhere behind him.

Thor whipped around to stare at him, at the both of them. Loki was their _brother_. And yet their faces remained calm and neutral – as far as Thor could tell. He was no expert on the Jotnar, save for one.

He didn't know who raised the ice pillar before Loki – was it Laufey, or Thrym, or Loki himself. Unprompted, Loki dropped to his knees before it, struggling to maintain some dignity in this position of obvious humiliation. It struck Thor that, with the exception of his mother, Loki was already the smallest person in the room.

The Frost Giants cared very little for ceremony. No-one said anything – Laufey inclined his head and that was all the permission Thrym needed. Loki barely had time to rest his folded hands against the pillar before the whip cracked in the air, leaving a deep, dark welt across his back.

He flinched – more surprise than pain, Thor thought. Some terrible rage burned inside him. He could see Loki's profile, his head still high, when the second blow landed. He could watch determination seep from his face with every crack, every violent shudder of his body.

Loki bit his lip. His back was a mess of criss-crossing lines. He made no sound, but he was shaking all over.

Thor didn't know what held him in place: his father's glare, his mother's horribly pale face, or the mixture of guilt and wrath. Because he was the one to blame, surely – Loki set up a trap, yes, but Thor threw himself into it, too blinded by desire to _think_ —

He had seen men whipped before. It wasn't practiced in Asgard, but happened in some less civilized lands. And it took care and skill to cause pain without permanently damaging the victim, and Thrym—Thrym displayed neither. He might have broken Loki's bones, or ripped his flesh apart—

No, he wouldn't care. It was a chilling realization. Loki might have been useful to him before but if what Loki had said was true, if Thrym desired the throne and if Laufey's position was already compromised by his dealings with Asgardians—then, to the both of them, Loki was expendable. He could die, and no-one would care.

It took the first, pained gasp from Loki's lips for Thor to snap.

Striking Thrym with lightning would be satisfying, but it lacked the diplomatic approach his parents had tried to ingrain in him since birth. So he had to content himself with summoning Mjolnir to his hand, and tossing it squarely at Thrym's chest.

He might have misjudged his strength. The Frost Giant wasn't merely knocked back; no, he was flung in the air and then crashed bodily against the chamber wall.

"Enough," Thor said in the eerie, resonating silence. Mjolnir came back to his hand and he spun it idly, facing off against Laufey.

"What is the meaning of this?" Laufey said.

"Thor, stand _down_ ," Odin said.

"No," Thor said. "You cannot do that to Loki."

"Oh? And why is that?"

"Because we are married," Thor said.

The sudden silence, his father's impending rage – it didn't bother him half as much as the bloody mess that used to be Loki's back.

"Not long ago you were swearing that it is not true," Laufey hissed.

"I changed my mind," Thor said. "And we are married according to your own laws and customs. If anyone has a problem with that," he raised his voice, turning to glare at Thrym. "I would gladly prove this in the arena."

To his bitter disappointment Thrym never rose to the challenge.

***

Loki hissed and shuddered while Frigga worked her seidr on his back. It was not enough – the wounds were deep and they would take a long time to heal completely. Some scarring would remain. But it would, at the very least, alleviate the pain and keep Loki from bleeding out.

"Thank you," he said hoarsely.

"All the best," Frigga said with calculated politeness. "For my apparent son-in-law."

At least Loki had the decency to look ashamed.

The Asgardians readied themselves to leave rather quickly. Loki mumbled something about his personal belongings, clothes, armour – but Odin very firmly told him to stay put. Thor could find no fault with that logic, as it left Loki under heavy guard of the Einherjar.

It was for the best, because Thor himself couldn't decide if he wanted to beat Loki up or fuck him senseless, just so that he could throttle the no-good lying little rat and squeeze some sort of apology from his throat—

His _consort_. His _Jotun_ consort. That was to depart with them to Asgard.

Marriage was always a fixture of a very distant future. Thor knew, intellectually, that it would have to happen. Asgard needed a Queen and he needed a mother for his heirs. He never bothered with trying to picture his potential bride. She would have to be beautiful, and kind, and intelligent and—and—

And _not a half-grown cheating scheming trickster of a Jotun prince._

What was he even meant to _do_ with Loki? What did one do with a consort? Would they have to share chambers? How would that even—would Loki even survive Asgard's climate? He had never left Jotunheim, how would he know if he could live outside of it? Frost Giants tended to keep to their own Realm, and with good reasons.

\--oh, Norns. He was married.

Perhaps it wasn't yet late enough to call the whole thing off. It was a tempting thought for sure, if Thor weren't certain Loki would be ripped apart the moment they left.

Loki didn't seem terribly put upon about leaving the land of his birth. He was speaking with Frigga, something about the workings of seidr. And—Norns. His mother. His father. What would _they_ say? What would Thor's friends say? So far everyone had seemed too shocked to offer any intelligent comment.

What _had_ he gotten himself into?

Thor watched Loki sullenly, and Loki looked back. The smile died on his face. He hadn't really spoken a word to Thor, no doubt sensing his rage. But, damn him, there were so many facets to his expression – afraid, yes, but also grateful? Hopeful, perhaps?

Alas, no. He was _smirking_ , the evil little bastard.

\--oh, to Hel with it. It was too late for second thoughts. It was done, and Loki was _his_. They would make it work; _Thor_ would make it work. He didn't yet know what it was he would do, but he would figure it out. He would do _something_ —

***

In the end the choice was taken out of his hands. Shortly after their arrival in Asgard, with no word of farewell or explanation, Loki was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> *here insert a decade or so of Thor chasing his runaway Jotun consort across the Nine Realms. They keep running into each other; Loki maintains that the copious amount of angry sex have nothing to do with it*


End file.
